Pretty Sure
by Weavillain
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple, straightforward question. Keywords, "supposed to". (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne)


**A/N:** Don't mind me at all, please. Just posting a quick little Ronniecoln drabble for you to (possibly) squee at. By the way, this takes place before "The Loudest Mission: Relative Chaos".

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On a lazy Saturday afternoon, devoid of any responsibility at home or scholarly obligations like homework, Lincoln found nothing better than scarfing down on unhealthy snacks, kicking his feet up on the couch (without shoes and socks, naturally), and mashing down furiously on game controller buttons while watching Muscle Fish, at his command, lay the smackdown on seedy, undersea criminals while combing the streets of his home turf.

Well, almost _nothing_. Being the gamer at heart that he was, Lincoln appreciated the merriment of co-op play, which was precisely why he was at the Santiago residence, indulging in his free time, with those aforementioned Saturday perks, with his (sorta-maybe-kinda) girlfriend, Ronnie Anne. With no one else around, they were free to vocalize their joy at maximum volume, celebrating the discovery of secret areas, the pride in pulling off impossibly long combo strings, and of course, bantering about one-upping the other in the high score department.

It only took about an hour, however, for the excitement to peter out to a lull, nothing but the clacking of buttons and the crunching of chips filling the air. About another fifteen minutes passed before Lincoln was at his limit with _Muscle Fish Mayhem_ and decided that it was time to call it quits. But before he could so much as pause the game, to suggest to Ronnie Anne that they do something else to pass the time, she beat him to the punch.

"Lincoln?"

Lincoln turned his head to face her. "Yeah, Ronnie Anne?"

He was waiting for her to tell him the same thing that he was thinking, that she wanted to do something else or perhaps, to what would be his disappointment, even call it a day. But what greeted Lincoln, in steed of what he expected, was a downward gaze from Ronnie Anne, as she looked in her lap where her hands were clamped. If Lincoln didn't know any better, he'd think that she was waiting in Principal Huggins office, antsy about whatever punishment awaited her for a misdeed that she committed.

"I've been thinking about this for a while and…"

She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. To make Lincoln even more confused, he could see the faintest trace of pink begin to bloom across her cheeks.

"I was just wondering…" She paused to swallow before she tried to speak again. "I-I was…"

"Is everything okay?" Lincoln finally asked, scooting a little closer to her to see if he was missing out on any obvious cues about her present bout of uneasiness.

Before he could lean in any further, Ronnie Anne put her hand up to stop him. He obliged and watched as Ronnie Anne clutched her knees and took several deep breaths, the last one being the longest to draw out. Though it was clear that she was trying to calm herself down, for reasons Lincoln _still_ couldn't even begin to wrap his head around, it seemed to do very little; her cheeks grew even pinker and she was visibly fighting back the urge to tremble.

Her blush flared when she snuck a quick glance up at Lincoln's expectant face and she quickly looked back down. Try as he might not to act discourteous to her plight, Lincoln's patience was beginning to wear thin. What on Earth could be so embarrassing, so gosh darn impossible to just spit out to where it seemed that it required all of Ronnie Anne's resolve just to compose herself?

He finally got his answer, more timidly than he could remember Ronnie Anne ever speaking before, when she finally said, eyes focused on her kicking feet, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Lincoln recoiled slightly, the query completely throwing him for a loop and colliding him against an array of emotions all jumbled together at once; puzzlement, embarrassment, curiosity, and the most prominent being discomfort. Feeling a blush of his own begin to creep up his face, all his brain could afford him to do was to ask, dumbly, "What?"

The terse, noncommittal response made Ronnie Anne huff, frown, and fold her arms. "F-Forget it."

If anything, her quick dismissal only made the poor boy even _more_ confused. "Huh?"

"Just forget I said anything," Ronnie Anne said and quickly hopped off the couch, clearly to make a beeline upstairs.

Her sudden attempt at retreat snapped Lincoln out of his stupor, his curiosity and concern for Ronnie Anne winning against his stasis. He tore after her and grabbed her by the shoulder before she could get any further. Ronnie Anne only managed a limp, tired shrug to get him to let go.

"Lincoln, come on," she whined, her tone dripping with mortification. "Just drop it. I swear, it's not that important."

Lincoln frowned. If there was anything that Ronnie Anne wasn't, it was unimportant and that went for any trouble that might concern her, especially if _he_ was somehow involved. Besides, he had caught her slip; she did say " _that_ important", meaning that it was at least something that needed to be addressed, even if it wasn't _that_ urgent.

"Then why did you even ask me in the first place?" He groaned when she did nothing but stand in place, hands stuffed in her front hoodie pocket. "Ronnie Anne, please. Just tell me why you asked me that. I won't make fun of you or insult you. I promise."

"You've done it before."

Lincoln winced and hung his head. Immediately, his hand slipped away, his thoughts no longer on Ronnie Anne but on what her words reminded of him saying about her a few months back before they become close. Indeed, he _had_ insulted her and even now, he regretted ever saying such hurtful words, especially since he found out that she had cried home to Bobby.

But that was _months_ ago. He knew he was better than that now and he also thought that _she_ knew that he was better than that by now. Did she really think so lowly of him, that she couldn't believe that he'd honor her insecurities with respect?

"Sorry." Before he could hang his head any lower, he raised it up and found Ronnie Anne, looking back at him with a guilty look. "That was low of me."

Lincoln shook his head, already forgiving her. "It's okay."

An awkward respite ensued, locking the two preteens in state of paralysis, their bodies permitting nothing more than looking around and hoping that the other's eyes wouldn't lock. Lincoln had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn't want to ask her why she had asked him _that_ , of all things, out of apprehension of her denying him the chance to know but he also couldn't waste his entire Saturday rooted to the ground like a tree.

He didn't have to chance to think of a way out of his mental impasse before Ronnie Anne finally spoke.

"Look, I'll tell you but…just don't think any less of me, okay?"

"I promise," Lincoln said, not feeling offended that she even had to ask.

Ronnie Anne only needed about five seconds of self-preparation before she could divulge her intentions.

"I've never really cared about being all pretty and girly and whatever. I mean, I try not to look like a slob or anything but I don't really…y'know, try to 'present'. And that's the way I like it because I'm not trying to 'send a message'."

Lincoln nodded understandably. Even with first impressions, Ronnie Anne didn't appear like a girl who fussed about in front of a vanity mirror for hours, touching herself up with pounds upon pounds of cosmetics.

"Boys have never looked at me twice," Ronnie Anne continued, "except if they're looking over their shoulder to see if I'm not coming to take their lunch money from 'em. And for the longest time, that suited me just fine." Taking out a hand from her pocket, she pointed at Lincoln. "But then you showed up. And when we started hanging out after you…"

She trailed off and darted her eyes away from him as another blush edged across her face. Lincoln felt himself doing the same, knowing exactly which public display of affection Ronnie Anne was referring to.

"Well, you know. After that, let's just say that besides my family, I care about what you think about me the most."

Lincoln reeled back, shocked by this revelation. He had an inkling about his status in Ronnie Anne's "inner circle", which he felt honored to be a part of, but he didn't know he meant _that_ much to her. Leave it to Ronnie Anne to throw him a curveball.

"You really mean that?" Lincoln asked.

She nodded but quickly formed a sad frown. "And when we do stuff like eating snacks and playing video games, sometimes I'm afraid that you think I'm just 'one of the guys', like Clyde or Rusty or Zach. And you wouldn't call them pretty, would you?"

Lincoln snorted, snickering at the mental image of him earnestly declaring that _any_ of his guy friends were pretty.

Beside himself at the apparent attempt at humor, Lincoln said, "Of course not. Why would I ever do that?" between chuckles.

After a few more guffaws, Lincoln began to pick up on the telling fact that despite her "joke", Ronnie Anne wasn't laughing. In fact, when Lincoln got a good look at her, it was clear that not only was she not laughing but if anything, she looked downright _miserable_. It took a good few seconds for Ronnie Anne's words to catch up to him and he immediately straightened his composure and ashamedly expressing both his guilt and understanding at what Ronnie Anne was getting at.

"Sorry," he said. "I think I understand now."

But with that understanding came the understanding that the ball was in _his_ court now. She had bared her soul, wanting him to give full closure on something that she wasn't sure of.

And as "The Man with the Plan", and as someone who had Lori's words of wisdom in mind, he knew exactly how to answer her; with words _and_ with action.

"Hey, Ronnie Anne?" Ronnie Anne's tense face softened under his comforting smile. "You don't have to worry about anything."

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "I think you _are_ pretty, inside…"

Leaning forward, he pressed a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose, eliciting her entire face to redden. "…and outside."

To Lincoln's surprise, besides turning red, she giggled in reaction to his gallantry. "Thanks, Lincoln."

"No problem," Lincoln said, proud of himself for the reaction he managed to spur from her.

"You're pretty, too."

"Why, thank y-" He paused, smirking and laughing at how he had just been played. " _Heeeeeeeey._ "

With that, the (possibly-more-than) friends were called to action by their baser instincts, to horse around as much as they saw fit.

And in the back of his mind, Lincoln swelled with pride at how far he had done to restore Ronnie Anne and reveled in the supremely satisfying knowledge that if Ronnie Anne ever felt inadequate about herself, he was _pretty sure_ he'd know exactly what to do about it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Why can't the early hours of the morning leave me well enough alone with all of these story ideas? I really need to see a doctor about this, I swear. Oh well, at least your enjoyment will make the insomniac suffering worth the trouble.

I hope.


End file.
